Chapter 18
Lucy
Lucy watches from the living room windows as the ambulance pulls away with Wes and Madeline inside. Lucy had offered to come
with them to the hospital, but Madeline waved her off, saying they were fine without her. Upstairs is a bloody corpse and
half a dozen law enforcement officers and crime-scene techs, and sitting on the bottom step is a young woman Lucy has never
seen before.
“Who the hell are you?” Lucy asks, bluntly.
“Mellie. Who the hell are you?” the young woman shoots back.
“You doing okay?” a voice asks from behind her. Lucy turns around. Agent Saldano. His jacket and jeans are darkened with blood,
and there’s a streak of red across one cheek.
“I’m fine,” Lucy and Mellie both say at the same time. Lucy crosses her arms across her chest.
“Just shaken up,” Lucy says. “I don’t understand what happened. Why did he do that?”
“Was it my fault?” the girl on the steps asks. “Did he find out I told you he was the one in the barn before the explosion?
Was he after me?”
Agent Saldano shakes his head. “No one would have told him that.” To Lucy he says, “You didn’t know Dalton Monaghan, then?”
“No,” Lucy says, examining the broken glass littering the floor.
“I’ve never met him or his wife. And I think Wes was as shocked as I was to find him in the baby’s room.
He had nothing but nice things to say about the Monaghans.
He feels terrible about Johanna’s death.
” It’s true. On their horse ride, Wes had said he couldn’t believe what had happened, how badly he felt about Madeline losing her best friend.
They had had a nice ride, a nice chat. “He was in the barn with Johanna? You think he did this, and he wasn’t in custody? ”
The agent holds up his hands. “We’re investigating. But for now, you aren’t going to be able to stay here until the crime
scene is released,” Agent Saldano says. “Do you and the Drakes have somewhere to go in the meantime?”
Lucy was sure that Madeline and Wes had plenty of options. They could stay at the most expensive hotel they wanted for as
long as they needed to. Lucy, on the other hand, had fewer options. “Can I stay in one of the bunkhouses on the property?”
she asks.
“That’s fine,” Saldano says. “It’s not part of the crime scene.”
Lucy tips her head, signaling to the agent that she wants to talk to him alone. Together they move to the hallway. She takes
a step closer to the agent and lowers her voice. “Who is she?” she asks, waving a hand in the direction of Mellie.
“You don’t know?” Saldano asks.
“I’ve never seen her before,” Lucy says. “Why is she in my sister’s house?”
“No idea, but apparently, she’s the one who called 9-1-1,” Saldano says. “She works for the caterer from your sister’s party.
She could very well have saved their lives.”
Lucy eyes the girl suspiciously. “Can I talk to her?”
“Not now,” Saldano says. “We need to get her statement first.”
Agent Saldano walks Lucy through the house to the back door. In the kitchen, Sheriff Colson is sitting at a table talking to a deputy, explaining to her how she has to take his service weapon into evidence.
“I have to take care of the horses,” Lucy says. “When we got to the house and saw the broken glass, we tied them out front.
Is it okay for me to go into the stables?”
“Yeah,” Jamie says. “But you won’t be able to go inside the house until the scene is cleared. Do you need anything from inside?”
Lucy thinks of the handgun in her backpack, but she can’t say anything to the agent about it since it doesn’t belong to her.
“How long will the house be off-limits?” she asks.
Agent Saldano looks toward the house and the parade of crime-scene techs that have descended once again on the property. “It
won’t take more than a day. You should be able to get full access by tomorrow at the latest.” This is a surprise to Lucy.
She would have thought that a man’s death would have taken more time to document. The agent notices Lucy’s disbelief. “This
is a pretty straightforward case. There are plenty of witnesses.”
Lucy nods. She saw the rage on Dalton Monaghan’s face and wonders if what he said was true. Was Wes really having an affair
with her sister’s midwife?
Lucy crosses to the front to where Blackjack and Billy are tethered to a lacy dogwood tree. She takes a moment to speak to
them in soothing, hushed tones before leading them back to the stables.
She checks her phone, hoping for an update from Madeline about how Wes is doing, but doesn’t find one. Lucy’s not surprised
that Madeline is once again freezing her out, but in the end it’s much better this way. It will make what has to happen later
much easier. Pip, the big white dog that always seems to be underfoot, follows behind her. She could be a problem.
The thought of having to ask Trent for a key to one of the bunkhouses pisses her off. And the girl. Why would Madeline invite her to stay at the ranch? It makes no sense. She swears to God, if this girl gets in her way . . .
Lucy pushes open a door that leads to the office that is connected to the stables. The space is small and dim, with only one
north-facing window, and she flips on the light switch. On the rough-hewn walls are photos of Lone Tree Ranch’s champion horses
and Madeline’s students. There’s also a picture of Madeline in her plum-colored riding jacket, tan breeches, and tall boots,
her blond hair in a sleek bun beneath her helmet, standing next to Blackjack after winning the FEI World Cup in dressage.
There was a time when Lucy’s heart swelled with pride at her sister’s accomplishments, but she gave it all up for—what?—marriage
and motherhood? What a waste of talent. Had Madeline never heard that women can actually do many things at once? She thought
about what she herself had given up to take care of their father, but that was different. Lucy gave up her dreams so Madeline
didn’t have to, and look how she’d repaid her for it.
Lucy’s heart stutters when she sees the wooden desk tucked into the corner of the room. It’s the desk her father made for
them to share when they were kids. Six feet long and made of white pine, it had two drawers, one for each of them. It was
long enough for both of them to use at one time, but they would inevitably end up bickering, so they had to use the desk in
alternating shifts. When she was younger, Lucy always wondered why he hadn’t built them each a desk of their own; the room
she shared with Madeline was certainly large enough. Later she realized it was her father’s way of trying to get them to share,
to cooperate.
Lucy runs her hand along the top of the scarred pine top. She pulls on the drawer that was once hers, and it opens easily.
Back in the day Lucy kept copies of Young Rider magazine and the Little Debbie snack cakes she liked so much in her drawer.
Later, she hid her weed and birth control pills there.
Now Madeline uses the drawer to hold dozens of multicolored hanging files, each labeled with a horse’s name in Madeline’s loopy print.
Their dad made the drawers extra deep, so Lucy explores the remaining space between the folders at the bottom of the drawer.
She pulls out a rectangular box that holds blank checks with the Lone Tree Ranch logo printed in the upper corner, then returns them to their spot.
Lucy moves to the other end of the desk and tugs open Madeline’s drawer. When they were young, Madeline stored her collection
of Misty of Chincoteague books and her plastic horse figurines. Now there are more file folders, these labeled with decidedly human names—most likely
Madeline’s clients. Future world-champion equestrians, no doubt. Madeline always knew how to bring the best out of people.
Most people.
Lucy snakes her hand between the file folders to explore the space beneath them and is surprised when her fingers hit wood
more quickly than she thought they would. Strange, she thinks, because their dad had constructed both drawers exactly the
same.
Lucy moves to the window to make sure no one is near the stables. The crime-scene techs are still filtering in and out of
the house, and Agent Saldano is speaking with Trent who, as promised, has been keeping a close eye on her. She’d have to figure
out a way to keep him busy, out of her way. The young woman, Mellie something, is talking to a deputy. Lucy has only a few
minutes.
She returns to the desk and begins to lift the file folders and set them in a pile at her feet until the drawer is empty,
revealing the wooden bottom. The wood panel is a darker shade than the rest of the desk and looks to be made from cheap plywood
and definitely sits higher than it once did. Damn, Lucy thinks. Madeline went and put a false bottom in the drawer.
She runs her fingers along the perimeter of the plywood but can’t find any kind of mechanism to get to what’s underneath.
She scans the desktop for some kind of tool—a pair of scissors, a letter opener—but quickly realizes these will damage the wood.
She finally slides a small paper clip from a stack of papers in one of the file folders and stretches it until it resembles a fishhook.
Carefully, she works the thin clip in between the wall and the floor of the drawer, twists it, and pulls up gently.
The panel lifts just enough so that Lucy can use her fingers to pull it free.
In the narrow space is a sealed manila envelope.
Lucy glances over her shoulder. She doesn’t know how much time she has. Someone could walk in at any moment, but curiosity
gets the better of her. She lifts the envelope from its hiding spot. It’s sealed and free of any kind of writing, and whatever
it holds is unsubstantial. Lucy hesitates only a second before running her finger beneath the seal. She tries to be neat about
it, but the envelope tears, making it impossible to cover up what she’s done. Lucy tips the envelope and several photos slide
out, and the images stare up at her. Her stomach tilts dangerously, then anger, hot and hard, roils through her chest. It’s
all she can do not to tear the photographs into a million bits, but she knows she can use them to her advantage. Dammit, Madeline,
Lucy thinks as she returns the photos to their hiding place.
Lucy picks up the file folders from the floor and begins replacing them in their proper spots, but one file catches her eye.
It’s labeled with only one word: Will. Lucy opens the folder and finds a stapled set of papers titled “Last Will and Testament of Madeline Ann Drake.” Stamped
in bright red is the word Copy. She skims the contents. As expected, Wes is named as Madeline’s main beneficiary. What’s written near the bottom of the will,
however, is more shocking than the photos in the hidden compartment. I bequeath the entirety of my estate to my husband, Weston John Drake, as the primary beneficiary. If my husband is not alive
at the time of my death, then the account shall be distributed to my sister, Lucy Marie Quaid, as contingent beneficiary.
Madeline and Wes are worth millions. To say that Lucy is surprised by this turn of events is an understatement.
She was sure that after all of Lucy’s financial woes and their strained relationship, Madeline would have cut her from the will a long time ago.
Maybe she needs to start being a little bit nicer to her sister.
Nah, Lucy thinks. This is so much more fun.